


Wrong Number, Right Recipient

by lookingforthestars



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Amy Santiago Loves Jake Peralta, F/M, Jake Peralta Loves Amy Santiago, Mistaken Identity, Mutual Pining, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforthestars/pseuds/lookingforthestars
Summary: Jake messes with the contact list on Amy's phone. What's the worst that could happen?(Alternately, what's the best that could happen?)
Relationships: Charles Boyle & Jake Peralta, Jake Peralta & Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 6
Kudos: 82





	Wrong Number, Right Recipient

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading tons of Jake/Amy fic lately while I rewatch the show, and I didn't think I would contribute anything but this idea popped into my head...hope you enjoy it!

It’s not The Best Prank of All Time. It’s not even really the best prank he’s pulled this week, to be honest, but it’s three in the morning and Amy is asleep on page 256 of her Greek history textbook, and she knows better than anyone that falling asleep before Jake Peralta is a one-way ticket to Pranksville.

Her roommate Kylie still hasn’t come home, which is perfect, because Jake is pretty sure that Kylie hates him and is maybe aware of his Big Dumb Feelings for Amy. She hasn’t said anything, but sometimes she gives him a look that he can only read as _you have zero chance here._

Which is probably true. Yeah, he messes with Amy because he likes her. He’s never claimed otherwise.

(That’s a lie. He claims otherwise at every opportunity. What’s the point in being honest about it? He’s not great at math, but he knows Amy Santiago is roughly 600% too good for him.)

He needs to hurry up before Amy comes to or Kylie returns with a disapproving stare just for him. He can’t even blame her; it _is_ kind of weird for him to be lingering in the room while Amy isn’t even conscious, and he’s not going to tell the _truth_ , obviously, because _she looks really cute when she sleeps and I sit here and think about all the things I’m not brave enough to do or say when she’s awake_ is not an Acceptable Answer.

Inspiration strikes, and Jake slips her phone off the desk, careful not to disturb her. He knows her passcode because he’s actually a lot more observant than he lets on, and he gets in easily, even though she’s one of those paranoid weirdos who creates very long combinations of numbers and letters. She also has different passwords for everything which is quite frankly just insane.

It takes him eight minutes to change the names of all of their mutual friends in her contacts. He leaves Professor Holt’s information untouched – because he knows Amy well enough to know that she will _literally_ kill him – but he completely scrambles Gina, Charles, Terry, Rosa, and himself until even he’s lost track. (Amy’s is the only number he knows by heart. She does not know that.)

She’ll sort it out relatively easily by just reading their text history, but it’ll make their group chat extremely confusing for a while. It’s the best he can do with limited resources.

Jake plugs her phone in to charge, making sure her alarm is set and she won’t miss her journalism class.

It’s time to leave, like way past time, actually, even though he wishes things were different. He wishes they were different, and he could pick her up and properly tuck her into bed, curl up behind her and stroke her hair until she fell back to sleep, wake up with her at eight a.m. when her alarm goes off and they could rally with giant coffees from the café she likes because they always have the newspapers with _the good crosswords, Jake_.

But that isn’t the world he lives in, and Jake already gets way more of her time and attention than he is probably worth, so. He drapes a blanket over her shoulders, brushing her hair out of her face so it won’t bug her while she sleeps, and shuts the door quietly behind him.

* * *

Jake does not make great decisions at three a.m., which is probably why daytime Jake’s brain works so hard to forget them. When he gets a text from Amy a few minutes after ten that just says _I chickened out last night_ , he’s this close to responding with _title of your sex tape_ when he realizes that she’s not actually texting him, per se.

Crap, who is she texting? He should have probably kept tabs on that. If only to keep the joke going a little longer. _Of?_ he sends back, because it seems neutral (although if she’s trying to talk to Charles, this will be a dead giveaway).

 _C’mon, Rosa!_ Okay, cool, monosyllabic was the right choice then. _I know you didn’t forget, we talked about it for like an hour yesterday!_

Jake stops walking and sits on a campus bench, an absurdly large coffee in hand (not from the crossword place, because their coffee is actually gross, and he only goes there for and with Amy). Channeling their least-talkative friend is, obviously, a challenge to his very nature and demands his full attention. _Yeah. Longest conversation of my life._

The ellipses shows Amy typing for what feels like an eternity, but is probably several minutes, and Jake actually starts to feel a little concerned. What is Amy so worked up about, and why did she tell Rosa instead of him? What’s important enough for Rosa to endure _one whole hour_ of feelings?

He finds out, soon enough, and it’s absolutely nothing like the scenarios he’d started conjuring in his head. _Jake and I were studying last night and I was going to ask him out, but then I just couldn’t stop thinking that I’m going to ruin everything and he’s going to think I’m so pathetic and our whole group will be screwed! So I chickened out and also I fell asleep face first in my textbook which was not cute and I probably looked like a giant dork._

Jake reads the message ten times before he even starts to process what he’s seeing. Amy was going to ask him out? How? In what universe?

On the fourteenth read, he can feel his confusion fade and his heart thump almost painfully in his chest, a stupid grin spreading over his face. She did look like a giant dork. The giantest. (Her nose was _literally_ in a book.) But god, doesn’t she know by now that’s what he loves about her?

He’s taken too long to respond, clearly, because Amy follows up with _ROSA HELP_ and he knows this is a true Amy Santiago crisis – she didn’t even use punctuation.

Jake’s hands shake a little. _You won’t ruin everything. He’s not going to turn you down._

 _You don’t know that!_ she shoots back almost immediately, and she has no idea how wrong she is.

_Yeah, I do. He’s into you, Amy. Hard. Stop freaking out about this._

* * *

It’s another hour before Charles calls him to tell him that Amy invited him out to dinner. Jake says a little prayer of thanks that he mixed his number up with Charles, who somehow picks up on the joke before Jake can even explain, because Charles is scarily in his head sometimes (and every other part of his life).

Charles has shipped them together since probably the second they met at freshman orientation, and happily sets up the date on Jake’s behalf. He can’t believe Amy is so out of it that she still hasn’t figured out he changed her contacts. She would be a terrible detective.

He tries a little harder than usual, putting on a T-shirt that’s certifiably clean and trading out his hoodie for a leather jacket. The place Amy picked isn’t super fancy (they’re both broke college students, even if Amy is miles better with money than he is) but he wants to show her that he takes this seriously. This could be the night that everything changes for them and damn if he hasn’t been dreaming about that for a year and change.

When he meets her at her room, Jake can’t speak for a moment. Amy has on jeans and a red tank, her hair loose over her shoulders, and it’s clear that she upped her game for tonight too. He could kiss her right now, keep them in her dorm and forget all about dinner. He could make her forget about the entire world.

But Amy Santiago is a woman with plans, which means she almost certainly has a plan for tonight. For them. He already introduces enough chaos into her life. He’ll do this her way.

(He really, really doesn’t want to scare her off.)

Jake tries not to act weird. Amy is only acting a little weird, which, all things considered, is pretty on brand for her anyway. They chat while they walk to the restaurant, his spine sparking each time their shoulders brush, and he leans into the contact, trying to convey to her without words how badly he wants this.

They make it through half-price appetizers and share an entrée and even though Jake is having a great time (he can’t remember ever not having fun with Amy), it feels like there’s an actual elephant in the room, and he almost says something first but as always, she catches him by surprise.

“I need to talk to you,” she says quietly, biting her lip. He can just hear her over the din of the restaurant crowd. She takes the napkin from her lap and puts it next to her empty plate, working a corner of the fabric over with her fingers.

“Okay,” he says, swallowing as his body temperature spikes by twenty degrees. Amy is just kind of staring at him, opening and closing her mouth a few times. Her face is steadily getting pinker and she shakes her head.

“Sorry,” she sighs. “Um, I’m just…uh…”

There’s another long silence, and Jake literally cannot take it anymore. He can’t stand to watch her struggle. He can’t handle her backing away again, either. “Ames, I already know what you’re going to say.”

Her eyebrows shoot straight up, and she freezes. “You do?”

“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath and pulls his phone out of his pocket, bringing up their messages before sliding it toward her. Amy looks deeply confused, her mouth in a tight line, and she scrambles for her own phone, her fingers fumbling with the button.

“ _No no no no no_ , I sent this to…” Her voice trails off as she scrolls, presumably doing what he thought she would do forever ago and checking the earlier messages. “Did you change my contacts?”

Jake sighs. “Yeah. Last night, when you were sleeping. It was a joke. I’m sorry, I didn’t think…well, I certainly didn’t think you and Rosa would be having any personal conversations.”

Amy’s expression is simultaneously mortified and pissed, and Jake braces for her to flip a table and storm out of the restaurant. He wishes he’d just _told_ her. Well. Hindsight is 20/20.

When she finally looks up at him, her eyes are wide and shining, and _mortified and pissed_ has somehow become _uncertain and hopeful_. “What you said…that you were, you know, into me…was that a joke too?”

Jake finds a tiny shred of boldness and reaches out, resting his hand over hers and threading their fingers. “No, Ames. That was…that was me trying to tell you that you have nothing to be nervous about.”

She smiles brightly, relaxing into his touch. Jake loves it when Amy smiles, especially when he’s the cause, but this smile is one he already knows he’ll work hard to see again and again.

He gets up from his chair and slides into the booth next to her, never letting go of her hand, and leans in slowly to give her time to back away. She doesn’t, and their first kiss is definitely the most mind-blowing thing that has ever happened to him in a Mexican restaurant. Probably the rest of his life too.

Amy is grinning when she pulls away, and she tucks her head into his shoulder while he wraps his arm around her back like this is something they’ve done a million times, and whatever, they’re now one of those gross couples that sit together on the same side of the table.

Her phone pings with a text from “Jake” that says _It happened, didn’t it? I can feel it!!!!!_

“Charles,” they say at the same time.

“Yeah. Sorry about your phone,” he mumbles sheepishly, although he can’t honestly apologize for anything that led to this.

“Don’t worry about it.” Amy presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll find a way to get you back.”


End file.
